


I Don't Wanna Stop So Give Me More

by ParaTheory



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Louis, M/M, Riding, Smut, mild exhibitionism, porn with a half assed attempt at plot, semi famous Louis, song writer Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:01:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParaTheory/pseuds/ParaTheory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Louis really wanted was a good hour alone in a dark room with somebody who was both horny and compliant. That would have been the ideal “break,” and it might even have drummed up a little inspiration. As it was, circumstances looked pretty bleak as his only option at the moment was his ex, his stupidly gorgeous ex with a sinful set of lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Wanna Stop So Give Me More

**I Don't Wanna Stop So Give Me More**

 

“Shit man, I’m getting nowhere,” bemoaned Louis of his predicament. Two hours and not a shred of inspiration had come his way. “I've got these two kick ass chord progressions, in two different keys, and no way to bridge the damn things. I’m beginning to consider starting from scratch,” he groaned, rubbing his nose. His hands drew upwards and gripped his hair, tugging exasperatedly. After a moment expressing wide eyed frustration, he let his arms fall boneless into his lap and then set aside the guitar he’d been holding for the last couple of hours.

 

 “I’m feeling you, mate. I’m totally stuck.” Harry expressed his writer’s block, “I mean, I've got this theme, and this idea, but no freaking words.”

 

 “That’s it, I’m taking a break.”

 

 “Good call.”

 

 Louis stood and moved out the door into the hall, towards the exit. Outside was the housing for a few various vending machines. What Louis really wanted was a beer, but seeing as this was work hours, he bought a Red Bull instead.

 

Actually, what Louis _really_ wanted was a good hour alone in a dark room with somebody who was both horny and compliant. That would have been the ideal “break,” and it might even have drummed up a little inspiration. As it was, circumstances looked pretty bleak as his only option at the moment was his ex, his stupidly gorgeous ex with a sinful set of lips.

 

He cracked the can, took a swig.

 

Louis hadn't been laid in over a month. Maybe longer, definitely longer, okay since he broke up with Harry two months ago, but he didn't want to admit to himself that his game was practically nonexistent since he ended things. Not that he was desperate, or anything.

 

The most action he’d gotten this week was a cute girl standing in line at Starbucks who winked at him when he went up to retrieve his order. Niall had promptly (metaphorically) dragged him away by the ear by the time he’d even had a chance to get a good look at her, he doesn’t know why Niall was so adamant about it, it’s not like he’s into anything she can offer, but it was nice to know at least he can attract someone.

 

Louis began ambling down the hall, back from the vending machines to the cushiony studio he and Harry were occupying. He found that, frustratingly enough, trying not to think about your own frustration led to nothing but additional frustration.

 

Another swig.

 

He’d probably better start thinking about music again before he got inside. This was a bad time to be getting distracted… they had to pay for every hour of studio time and at the last meeting, it was Louis’ spotty demo they’d voted on to develop into the next single. Although unfinished, the idea seemed solid, and all of it was undeniably catchy. Thus, today’s assignment was to bridge the aforementioned gap and nail down a theme for the lyrics. Louis and Harry’s it was; everyone else free to occupy themselves otherwise.

 

Harry gave him a nod upon his reentry, and Louis settled himself again into the squishy seat and gathered up his acoustic. He stepped down on the loop pedal and started working around until he found something similar to what he’d had before, but that he hoped he could morph up into the next key. Maybe he’d have Harry put the bridge here, it had kind of an… edgy? Sound. If anyone aside from Harry was their lyricist, he’d have doubted their ability to even conceptualize lyrics that fit the mood of this weird song he was shaping.

 

As it happened, Harry freaked Louis out on occasion. Naturally, writing songs was an emotional thing, but it wasn't always blunt to every listener. But sometimes Harry would give the song just a single listen, and then he’d weave poetry that tore Louis open as easy as flipping pages in an old, familiar book. It unnerved the poor man that he was that easy to read.

 

Louis’ finger slipped on the fret board, making a loud and jarring squeal and creating a discordant chord instead of the Ebm he’d been strumming a moment before. He cursed and with frustration threw the switch to stop recording.

 

 He tried again, several more times, but something always seemed to go wrong. He’d start playing and forget to hit record; he’d sneeze in the middle of a take; he’d make a simple, yet irreconcilable mistake.

 

On the sixth attempt at getting something substantial, his loop pedal starting playing back a strange clicking noise, out of sync with the song. Louis stopped the recording, pressed the heels of his palms to his eye sockets and allowed the irritating syncopation to resound with his pounding headache, before dropping to his hands and knees to fiddle with it. At best, there was some external source of the noise he could take care of. At worst, it was a mechanical malfunction and he was going to have to buy himself a whole new machine. Louis wasn't even sure he felt like trying to fix it, when as soon as he did he’d have to give the whole operation another go and surely he’d mess it up somehow, once again.

 

 Harry, sitting quietly across the room, cleared his throat. “C’mon, don’t you think you should give it a rest?"

 

 “I already took a break, it’s only been half an hour,” Louis whined.

 

 “Yeah, well…”

 

 “It’s just, if only I could get this one thing down, then fine, I could go  pick up some lunch or work something else. I just feel so stuck.”

 

Harry sat in silence for a beat, as though considering his reply. “We could… probably… go for a walk, just for a… short while.” He looked directly into Louis’ eyes, waiting and calculating his every expression carefully.

 

And with good reason.

 

 Louis showed no initial recognition, but…

 

The last time Harry had used those words was almost three months ago. It brought back very specific memories... some enthralling, some very painful.

 

That fling had lasted about four weeks. It left Louis with a lot of questions, some about himself, some about his life, some about society and inevitably some about Harry. It had ended the way it had started: quietly if not prettily. They’d tried not to let it change the way they interacted and they’d handled it like adults; moved on.

 

One of the things that had made the whole thing work, which ended up being the reason it fell apart, was the frankly unforgettable amazing sex.

 

 “… Let me think about it,” Louis murmured, without looking at Harry.

 

He knew that was a hurtful thing to do, but this was very sudden. He tried not to think about what he was putting Harry through, making him sit there and stew in his last words.

 

He picked up his guitar once more.

 

He spent a good six minutes strumming random chords, mind churning, heart thudding unsteadily.

 

Needless to say, the last time, there hadn't necessarily been very much “walking” involved at all.

 

A short stumble to the nearest couch, maybe.

 

Louis sat, crooked his index fingers and focused his gaze on the far wall.

 

He didn’t move for quite some time.

 

Harry in the meantime waited for a little while. He rubbed his eye, eventually reaching for his notepad and taking pen to paper. At an interval, he pulled out his iPhone and began to play one of the games on it. He waited.

 

Harry beat the game. Bent to tie his shoelace.

 

Louis sat immobile.

 

As Harry tightened the final knot on his sneakers, a booted foot came into his line of sight, joined by a second a moment later. Harry lifted his gaze, following Louis’ gorgeous legs up to his waist, to his understated chest, to his neck, to his face.

 

By the time Harry was level with Louis’ eyes, Louis was down, on his knees to match Harry’s sitting height. Their faces were very close.

 

“For real, this time, do you think?” Harry asked.

 

When their lips met it was with brutal, bruising force, and Louis yanked Harry by the shoulders bodily right out of the chair he sat in onto his own knees with Louis. Harry breathed in sharply and gave as good as he got, delicate hands finding their way into Louis’ hair with some familiarity.

 

 “No,” Came Louis’ answer, in what could have been described as a growl. He aggressively tugged Harry’s jacket off of his shoulders, “This… this is one night.”

 

They both ignored the glaring lie in Louis’ tone.

 

Harry allowed himself to be partially undressed, slipping a knee in between Louis’ legs and inching forward. He wrapped his arms around Louis’ neck, biting his lower lip and pulling on it. As if in response to a password, Louis’ tongue emerged to tangle with Harry’s at the same time as he ground down on the knee between his thighs. After a minute of this, he ran his tongue skillfully along the right side of Harry’s jaw, getting him to tilt his head back and huff out a sigh. Louis kissed across to his earlobe and nipped at the piercings studding it, causing just a little bit of sting. “One. Night,” he emphasized like he’s doesn’t even believe it, and then choked back a groan of surprise as Harry assertively hooked a finger under the waistband of his jeans. He wiggled it past Louis’ tightly buckled belt, stroking little patterns and applying infuriating pressure to the area of skin just a centimeter too high. Harry’s other hand slid down to the small of Louis’ back, hiking him forward so that their chests were flush.

 

The unexpected friction coaxed a gratifying puff of air past Louis’ lips that brushed against his ear, and Harry brought their lips together, murmuring, “Whatever you say.”

 

As the fingers of Harry’s left hand found their way beneath the hem of Louis’ t shirt and stroked the skin there with the tenderness only someone very familiar with each other bodies would, Louis was struck with a reeling sense of déjà vu. To counter it, he began to rub hard against Harry’s leg, pushing down and back and forth as hard as he could while lapping one of his earrings into his mouth with a devious tongue. He alternately sucked on the piercing, filling his mouth with the metallic tang of silver, and blew gentle breaths into Harry’s ear.

 

His lyricist shuddered. “You remember,” he said simply, doing an admirable job of keeping his voice steady.

 

“Shut up,” came the belated reply, “and tell me if we’re doing this right here or someplace else.”

 

“Mm.... Depends on the specific nature of ‘this.’”

 

“We are going to fuck,” Louis said bluntly, “and then I am coming back to finish this goddamn song, and you are going to write the lyrics, and then we will absolutely never speak of this. We will pretend it never happened."

 

Harry lowered his chin and caught Louis’ lips smoothly.

 

“But first we fuck, right? ‘Coz God knows it’s been two months and I need it!”

 

“Oh, yes,” Louis hissed against the Harry’s mouth, bracing his weight on his palms spread flat against the vertical incline of the chair behind Harry’s back.

 

“Well then,” said Harry, standing abruptly and swiftly removing his hands from Louis’ body, “We’d better be moving on out.” He stepped towards the coat rack before remembering where his jacket actually was and retrieving it from the ground.

 

The look Louis gave him, from his position on the wood floor, knees spread like a W, was more or less indescribable. Ruffled, frustrated maybe, teased and maybe an eensy bit victimized, with a scowl. And utterly delectable.

 

Harry quirked an eyebrow and dropped into an easy squat. He grasped Louis’ face by the chin and kissed him, exchanging a few quick flips of the tongue and then pulling him to his feet.

 

“Your place, I assume.” Louis counted it as a success that he managed to say it without sounding breathless. Fucking cigarettes, made it harder and harder to breathe like a normal fucking human. 

 

Harry’s retort was dripping with humour. “Unless something has changed since the last time, and you've developed a liking for fucking along to the ambient sounds of Liam cooking downstairs and Zayn watches the evening news?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I said your place, didn't I?” He ran a hand through his hair, quickly assessing that there was no time effective way to fix Harry’s effect on it. He always had been one for hair pulling…

 

The singer blew his bangs out of his eyes and collected his guitar. “Hope you feel like walking,” he said, “No way I’m taking a cab with you. I’d be accosted.”

 

As Louis approached the door, Harry caught him around the ribs and pressed his back to the wood, just hard enough to make a satisfying thud. “I thought that was the point,” he murmured into the left corner of Louis’ lips, eyes closed.

 

“... Yeah, well.”

 

Louis let the moment last just a few short beats before he extracted himself, tweaking Harry’s nipple for good measure, just to surprise him. He earned a smirk and a stifled gasp, not necessarily in that order, and half-caught the look on Harry’s face just before he turned and went out the door.

 

As it turned out, the walk was a brisk one. It was chilly outdoors, the crisp air of October lending its cold crinkle to the dry atmosphere. Louis matched Harry’s pace, at a half step behind, looking from his bright surroundings to Harry’s ass back to the leaves on the trees and then to the gentle curves where Harry’s thighs filled out his tighter than tight pants. Louis hadn't allowed himself to observe this, much less dwell on it, in two months. If Harry noticed, he didn’t let on.

 

Harry did notice, naturally. He tried not to let the awareness affect the natural swing of his hips as he walked along, thinking it might give it away.

 

Which was hard.

 

But he found it flattering. Part of him wanted to turn and kiss Louis, take him by the hand, or something cheesy along those lines, but he knew the reaction would be a vehement absolutely not. Actually, that knowledge was what made him want to try it. He restrained himself, in any case they are in public and Louis was still a semi-famous celebrity and a member of a pop rock band steadily gaining momentum in the music world.

 

The pair passed by a bar.

 

“You sure you don’t want any drinks first?” Harry offered, pausing.

 

Louis gave him another look. This one read, _Now? Really?_

 

“I thought you keep whiskey in the wardrobe. Behind your bandana collection.”

 

“Now actually it’s in a real whiskey cabinet. In the kitchen and everything,” Harry admitted.

 

Louis resumed walking.

 

“That’ll do now, won’t it?” He knew he was coming off a little impatient, which, as past encounters had indicated, was an effective way to make Harry's attitude... interesting. As Louis remembered, he was apt to either take you up fast and ferocious, or, if he was in a mischievous mood, he’d hold it against you. For a _long_ time.

 

Louis began walking a little faster.

 

As they climbed the stoop to the entranceway of Harry’s apartment building, Louis found himself inadvertently remembering multiple occasions upon which he had either slammed Harry, or been slammed by Harry, roughly up against this old oak door.

 

Harry turned the key and pushed it open, gesturing that Louis enter first. As he stepped up over the vestibule, Harry’s hand met his ass with a loud smack and some considerable sting, which caused Louis to let out a half yelp. He whipped around and punched Harry’s shoulder, (doing his best to ignore the quirk of his lips and the raised eyebrow) before turning and continuing towards the elevator at the right wall of the lobby.

 

The hallway on floor five incurred similar recollections as had occurred to Louis on the roadside stoop, so he stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders, as if defensive body language would fend off the memories. Harry on the approach was already selecting the correct key before they came to a stop in front of the door, so by the time they did there would be no unnecessary waiting. With a deft twist of Harry’s delicate wrist, they were inside.

 

Louis was immediately confronted by the overpowering scent of lilies! They smelled intoxicating, and right now the air in Harry’s apartment was positively permeated by their fragrance.

 

This was most likely because hundreds of bouquets of them were overflowing from every solid surface in the entire apartment.

 

“Shit,” Harry groaned after a dumbstruck beat, “My sister, ugh, I totally forgot. Damn…”

 

Louis stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk growing on his face.

 

Harry continued to explain, “My sister is getting married not long from now, and she wanted me to match the flowers to the main fabrics she wanted for everyone’s gowns, since I have access to costuming and I guess you could say eye for it, but I didn’t realize… I should have known they’d deliver them here I guess, but, just… _damn_ …” He trailed off.

 

“Wow,” was all Louis could think to say. They hadn’t spared the couch, the coffee table, or even the TV stand, heavy blossoms overflowing onto the carpet surrounding each piece of furniture. He started laughing. Harry immediately thwacked his arm in response and headed towards his kitchen, placing each step carefully and trying not to knock over any of the arrangements.

 

That kind of harmless physical contact, those kinds of playful touches, had been conspicuously absent from their interactions for quite some time now, Louis considered. He rubbed his arm and followed, thinking how he probably deserved it for punching him earlier, maybe a little harder than he'd meant to, definitely not because of nervousness, of course it was something else, he just wasn't sure what.

 

Harry went to retrieve the spirits from the cabinet, but having no place to set down the glasses and pour, ended up having to relocate several of the bouquets to the floor. There were even lilies in the kitchen sink.

 

He offered Louis the first glass he poured, downed one for himself, then refilled it and then held up his glass after the fashion of a toast.

 

“Here’s to overcoming writer’s block,” Harry announced, and then, looking around and wincing, “And here’s to perseverance in the face of adversity.”

 

Louis chuckled and met Harry’s eyes playfully, “Cheers.”

 

Thankfully, although those who carried out the delivery had not shied away from invading Harry’s bedroom with their cargo of flowers, they had spared his expensive duvet the danger of an arrangement spill water all over the bed. Not the nightstand though, or the dresser, or the windowsills, or the floor at the edges of the bedroom where the wood met the wall. The fragrance was everywhere, too.

 

 “I dunno about this, Harry,” Louis shook his head as he seated himself on the edge of the bed, plucking a bloom from the nearest arrangement, “I mean, having gay sex is pretty gay, but all of this,” he gestured around them, “Well, this is just plain gay,” Louis teased.

 

 “Oh, shut up, you’re being rude” Harry said, joining him on the bed and straddling him comfortably, “Besides, you can’t back out now. It’s too late.”

 

Louis leaned back on his hands, supporting his weight with his arms, legs crossed at the ankles. With the hand he wasn't using to hold the lily, he reached out for Harry’s face as he settled on top of him and drew him in for another kiss.

 

“You sure you don’t want to break out the corny music and the candles first?”

 

“…”

 

Louis chuckled after his own joke and fingered the ribbed fabric on the neckline of Harry’s t shirt. He wanted it off, but he didn't want to rush the pace of things.

 

Well, yes, he did, but he didn't want it to _look_ like that.

 

“I thought I told you to shut up,” Harry grumbled, pushing his palm down over Louis’ crotch purposefully, “But I suppose, if you aren't satisfied with the arrangement, a take-it-or-leave-it condition could be applied. I’d be happy to call you a taxi and bus you back off to the studio, but something tells me that at this point, that song isn't the only unfinished business we have between us.”

 

Louis hummed into Harry’s mouth. Damn, the man knew what he was doing.

 

Harry moved his right hand from the bulge in Louis’ jeans upward, under the front of his shirt to massage the skin. His left hand came up to join his right, and the hands were warm. Harry applied soft pressure in circular motions all the way up to just below Louis’ collarbones and gently pushed him down onto his back against the cushiony support of the pillows.

 

Louis was wary of this soft treatment. “If you'll remember, I can take it thank you very much,” he grumbled as Harry’s fingers caressed, actually caressed, his nipples, “So don’t go all soft or anything.”

 

Harry nodded with his eyes half lidded, lowering his face to Louis’ neck and blinking his eyes, purposely tickling the skin of his throat with his eyelashes. With his mouth he pressed butterfly kisses all over his neck, tracing veins with his tongue and lapping at his Adam’s apple. Louis inhaled deeply, drawing in the mingling scents of Harry’s shampoo, the subtle sweet tang of Harry himself that permeated the apartment and the bedding he lay on, the smell of whiskey on his tongue, and of course, the lilies.

 

It took Louis a few minutes to understand that Harry had every intention of treating him (infuriatingly) as though he was some kind of delicate flower, and made of brittle glass to boot. The realization came somewhere between the feather-light touches to the most sensitive areas of skin, (which Louis barely remembered having,) and the sugary kisses Harry bestowed upon every inch of newly exposed nakedness.

 

So Harry was playing him, then.

 

He knew very well that Louis didn't want any fluffed up, sweet and slow love making. He was going to _keep_ fluffing him until Louis snapped and took matters into his own hands, inciting necessary roughness.

 

Lazy bastard didn't want to have to do any of the work!

 

Louis briefly considered waiting him out.

 

That idea lasted exactly until Harry’s teeth, previously grazing Louis’ hip bone, dug in, oh-so-slightly. Louis bit his lip and threw his head back against the pillows, moaning shamelessly. Harry immediately looked up innocently at Louis’ face, with an expression that petulantly read _Oops, sorry._

 

Well, fuck that.

 

“Don’t you fuck around with me.”

 

Louis pushed himself up off of his back and wound his arms around Harry’s body, hovering above him, and pulled him down until his weight was fully resting on him. He used this momentum to flip Harry onto his back, but didn't have the control to make sure he landed squarely on the mattress, so Harry’s head hung slightly over the edge.

 

Louis was done with the fluff crap. He dispensed Harry’s belt and yanked at his skinny jeans until they came all the way off, and threw them, inside out, over his shoulder and out of his way, underwear with them. He almost ripped Harry’s shirt, trying to get it off.

 

This change in attitude was one Harry unquestionably found favorable, if his volume was any indicator. He didn't even notice that he was crushing the lily blossom Louis had plucked earlier under his back.

 

“I hope you can understand why I can’t apologize for fucking around,” Harry gasped out between a kiss and a breathy moan.

 

Louis’ next kiss was accompanied by what could have been called, without much dispute, a growl. It was a lot less two moths bumping into each other, and a lot more two high-propulsion jet streams of water colliding in midair, inasmuch as they met midway and rather than falling apart from each other, the each individual half of the pair just seemed to keep collapsing into the other. At the same time, they were falling through the atmosphere, dragged down by gravity, and yet so high up already that although the crash landing could be inevitable, the perpetuation of the inertia of the moment was far more present, far more important.

 

Tongues, teeth.

 

Fingers gripping hair.

 

Legs tangling. Feet sliding up and down calves, arms pulling and pushing and embracing and shoving.

 

Half-formed thoughts and ideas becoming actions, presence of mind becoming singularity of intention.

 

 _Why, exactly, did I let this go, again?_ Louis wondered briefly, before he forgot even that as Harry finally worked his hand into Louis’ jeans and began stroking him through his boxers.

 

He sighed and let his head droop, hair brushing Harry’s bare chest. He entertained the idea of his bare skin against Harry’s in his mind for a minute or two. When it got to be too much, he pushed himself up on his knees and then stood, trying to balance his weight on the surface of the bed, managing to take off his jeans. He let himself fall limply back down, the springy bed cushioning his completely ungraceful landing, and pulled his shirt high over his head, crawling back on top of Harry to appreciate his whole body as best as he could, noticing as he did Harry’s heavy lidded gaze on himself.

 

Harry re-positioned himself so that he wasn't straining his neck just to look at Louis. He had missed this; in the last couple of months he’d found himself weighed down by unprecedented nostalgia. He’d wanted a chance to have Louis back, to put bad water under the bridge for this experience because of how he knew it was worth it. Almost as if on their own, his arms reached out to draw Louis in, pull him so that he was hovering over Harry’s body, and then down to make their lower bodies flush. Harry relished every moment his fingers brushed Louis’ skin, touching and feeling, pinching, twisting, rubbing… every motion he could think to try to really get Louis to feel. He knew he was getting it right when Louis’ breath would hitch or his back would arch, but as he knew, these reactions were small types of indicators. For the clenching and un-clenching of his jaw, the gasps and the trembling stomach muscles, and yes, those beautiful moans, it would require a specific kind of pleasuring.

 

Louis caught on to what Harry intended to do next when he started licking his lips, kissing Louis with nothing but tongue, grabbing his ass. Harry was glaring at Louis like he was suffering from unbearable hunger and somehow, it was his fault.

 

The hunger was infectious.

 

The two locked gazes as Harry dragged his hands down Louis’ sides, not gently, ghosting his breath down his skin as he did, from the hollow at the base of his neck to his bellybutton. From there his hands moved to cup Louis’ ass as Harry lapped and kissed his way into increasingly sensitive territory until he was mouth to cock. He wrapped his lips, plush and warm, around the head and toyed with it using his tongue, before moving his lips up and down first the left and then right hand side of his shaft as Louis looked on, lips pursed. Harry opened his mouth wide and extended his tongue flat, taking Louis into his mouth and running his tongue down the underside before closing his lips and completely deep-throating him in one go.

 

The noise Louis let out was simply impossible to transcribe. It could conceivably be replicated by smashing a keyboard, if done in the right order; the suction alone he was subjected to as Harry hollowed out his cheeks, eyebrows knotted, and pulled away, breathing solely through his nose, was numbing his brain.

 

Harry drew away and then came back for more, nearly repeating the same feat as he had pulled just moments before and Louis began to feel increasingly as though his limbs were nothing but noodles.

 

Harry opened his eyes mid-pull and looked up though his lashes at Louis’ face. Louis’ jaw dropped into a gratifying O shape and his eyes squinted hard at the unfolding scene.

 

“Ooh ho, baby…” he moaned out. His head lolled backwards, muscles too turned to jelly to support the weight of his ever less useful brain.

 

Harry smiled between licks and slid his palms around to rest side by side on Louis’ hips, fingers dancing over Harry’s quivering abdomen.

 

“Hah…” was all he really had to say, exhaling a hot, tantalizing breath over Louis’ wet penis, which earned him some appreciative humming.

 

Louis took this opportunity to take advantage of the lull in the onslaught against his nerves to make a practical relocation so that he was lying on his back against the pillows of Harry’s bed once again. He wasn't sure his knees could support him much longer.

 

“Shit Harry, were you always this good at this?” He asked breathlessly in another break a few minutes later.

 

“I can’t say as I remember,” Harry considered, “It depends. About where did I date Ben and get all the practice? Was that before or after you?” He teased, veritably slithering his way up Louis’ pent up body to bring their mouths and erections together.

 

The men coordinated their bucking hips to achieve a rhythm of delicious friction,

 

“Nghh. Now come on, you didn’t really date Ben, did you?” Louis panted.

 

Harry just smirked and hummed.

 

“What, really?” Louis pouted, “Is he bigger than me, then?”

 

Harry laughed outright at that, loud and free. It kind of startled Louis, honestly.

 

“Louis, last I remember, it was you that dumped me. And yes, absolutely. His dick is totally ten inches long,” he said with humour, hitching Louis’ knees up around his thighs for a better angle and delving his tongue into Louis’ open mouth, effectively preempting any attempt at furthering the conversation.

 

Louis closed his eyes and allowed himself to be dragged under by the wash of sensations he and Harry were conjuring up together. Harry’s skin felt seeded with drugging substances that massaged their way into Louis’ bloodstream and pumped him full of vitality and sedation at the same time.

 

As their tempo steadied and slowed, from tempestuous rock song, to languid power ballad, to nurturing lullaby, Louis began to feel an itchy sense of twitching urgency.

 

He broke the seal of their lips and brought his to Harry’s pink ear, flushed with exertion.

 

“I think you should do it now,” he mumbled from between reddened lips that stuck together.

 

Harry sighed and grinned, winking at Louis as he drew himself up, reaching for Louis’ arm and pulling him upright on his knees with him.

 

“Sure thing,” he agreed.

 

Harry clambered out of the bed and over to his dresser, wading through bedclothes for a moment there as he moved away from his overstuffed queen. While he dug through his top drawer, angling his head just to see past the overflowing lilies, Louis stood unsteadily a few feet off, testing his legs, rolling his head and looking around for a clock.

 

He never did see one; if Harry even kept an alarm, it was probably in the general vicinity of a nightstand buried in flower arrangements.

 

Harry came up behind him, rubbing his shoulder briefly with his free hand before sliding closer to plant a kiss on Louis’ neck, just below the hairline. “How you feeling?” He asked expectantly.

 

“Ready,” Louis replied.

 

Harry steered him easily over to the bed once more, and Louis made his way on his hands and knees to the center of it. Then he sat up straight and jerked his head towards the top of the bed, by the headboard, and gestured for Harry to toss him what he had in his hand.

 

Harry gave him a look, blinked.

 

Louis said simply, “You’re welcome to watch, if you like.”

 

In response to which Harry’s eyebrows shot high up behind his bangs and were gone for a moment. It took him precisely a second and a half to warm to the suggestion, though, and he leapt enthusiastically into the bed, among all the pillows. Louis noted his cock bouncing with the motion comically, and shook his head, chuckling.

 

Harry underhanded him the bottle of lube, and Louis caught it, uncapping it steadily. Harry settled in for his very own peep show, and Louis squirted a generous amount onto his fingers.

 

Hey, it’d been awhile, all right?

 

He surreptitiously squirted _just_ a little more. Then he capped it and tossed it a short distance away, leaning back on his elbow.

 

Louis opened his knees once he was on his back, propping up a foot for Harry. He made his way using slow but purposeful touches with his hands down his body to his genitals, first giving a few short strokes to his erection and then approaching his entrance. He probed around for a short while, doing his damndest not to look away from Harry’s eyes. He found that he could be more brazen if he could be sure that Harry’s gaze was locked on his face and not on his self-preparation.

 

One finger, to the first knuckle: lube doing its job.

 

The second knuckle seemed all right, too, always a little in, then out, then a little more in, then out.

 

Harry’s burning eyes were scorching Louis inside and out.

 

Inside, outside.

 

Inside, outside.

 

Second finger, just the first knuckle: lube still doing its job.

 

Louis chewed his bottom lip, seductively if not intentionally. Harry was applying his own ministrations now, fidgeting where he sat and taking _everything_ in with his enormous, wide eyes.

 

Two fingers, two knuckles… ah yes, that was some sting. Louis let out something that sounded vaguely like “Urrhnggff,” through clenched teeth, momentarily closing his eyes.

 

When he opened them again, Harry’s hand covered his own and his big brown eyes were inches away from Louis’ face.

 

“Need a little help, there?” he whispered darkly. Louis ignored the question and wound his left hand into Harry’s hair, crushing their lips together rather violently. He gritted his teeth and scissored the fingers of his right hand, grunting and trying to focus on catching Harry’s slippery tongue between his teeth. The technique seemed to be working until the lube began to run out, so in his impatience he shoved Harry down on his back and swiftly poured another generous portion into his palm.

 

Before Harry could get any quip out about saving at least a little for more rounds, later, Louis was slathering it onto his condom-clad cock, cold and slick, making Harry hiss a quick intake of breath instead. By the time it began to absorb the heat of his skin, Louis was already mounting Harry, knees on either side of his hips.

 

Harry could only moan at all of this, as speedily as events were transpiring, and so he chose to muffle himself by biting his wrist while his beautiful ex (who will no longer be one at the end of the night if he got any say in it) lowered his body down, and down, and down until he was engulfing him entirely. Harry felt energized, pent up and ridiculously aroused. You can imagine the restraint it took for him to lay still as Louis hissed and groaned and fidgeted until the pain was bearable. Slowly at first, he began to use his legs to wiggle his hips; infuriatingly, in Harry’s case, trapped beneath Louis’ weight and bound to let him control everything from his own pace to his own angle. Louis’ grunts slowly turned into moans as the stinging pain became a tingling pleasure, and a little at a time, the wiggle became more of a bounce.

 

Naturally it was a very short amount of time from that point until Harry was playfully sitting up, throwing Louis off of him and then dragging him back by his calves to employ his own more efficient positions. The adjusted pair fucked: Louis on top, face to face, for some time, then Harry on top, Louis bent over the edge of the bed, which proved to be too short of the ideal height for his fluid, rhythmic hip thrusts, against the wall by the dresser, Louis’ face buried in fragrant blossoms so heady he felt like gagging, and eventually, they made it all the way over so that they were tightly pressed up against Harry’s bay windows, open to the cityscape, five floors above the pavement.

 

One of Louis’ sweaty hands braced himself against the glass pane, fingers spread wide like a finger painting, and the other reached behind his head and Harry’s to entangle in his damp hair at the crown of his head. Harry pounded into him from behind, face pressed to his neck, right hand pumping his erection, left hand toying with Louis’ nipples. Louis’ every breath fogged against the window, each exhale a new puff of mindless pleasure fanning and crystallizing.

 

On the other side of the glass was a crisp, cold, October evening.

 

When Louis’ eyes weren't rolled back in his head, as he succumbed to pleasure like a hedonistic animal, they were continually glancing down to make sure none of the ant-like pedestrians several stories below were bird watching. The excitement generated by the possibility did nothing but add to the rising tension between the men, hike up the temperature in the already steamy room. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily? There was no adjacent apartment building of this many stories.

 

Rock stars by profession, exhibitionists by association.

 

The noise they were producing between them was no small issue on its own, either. As soon as it had become apparent, Harry had switched on some music, blasting through his hi-def speakers as a sound buffer for the neighbors. The gesture meant that neither of them needed to hold back their vocal appreciation of the other, and they didn't.

 

As the song turned over and a familiar melody filled the apartment, Harry moved his head a little and began to sing the lyrics intimately into Louis’ ears. The lines were punctuated by _Oh_ ’s and _Yeah_ ’s, which Harry stylized to emphasize how he felt.

 

Louis felt positively swamped with all of the sensational messages his nerves were overloading him with. He felt nostalgic and daring and full and sexy and very, very, very close. Harry whispered sensual words into his ear, each sentence tickling Louis’ skin as well as his brain. Both pairs of hips moved effortlessly with the beat of the song, in double time as between them, the two cultivated a staggering climax.

 

Harry ended up coming inside the condom before he ever got the chance to pull out, and Louis spurted multiple times all over the window pane, harder than he ever remembered having done, even when he’d been with Harry in the past. It was a beautiful thing, not that Louis or Harry appreciated it from a third party point of view. They were too busy collapsing onto Harry’s carpet, amid heaps and heaps of flowers, joined at the lips.

 

They lay absolutely breathless on the floor several minutes later. Louis for his part was still trying to comprehend a recovery, let alone achieve it.

 

Harry in his exhaustion managed to prop himself up on his palms, cracking his back and moaning indulgently.

 

He looked fondly over at Louis, spread eagled and butt naked on his carpet.

 

 “Could use a beer. ‘Bout you?”

 

Louis expressed his assent face down to the floor, “Absolutely.”

 

Harry staggered to his feet and clicked off the loud music on his way to the refrigerator. Louis lay for a time in silence before summing up the energy to maneuver himself so that he could rest his back against the bed.

 

He reflected that his ass felt somewhat as though some asshole had jammed some sort of vacuum cleaner up it. Then he caught himself musing about exactly how perfect it had felt at the time and then started rubbing his eye in exhaustion.

 

Harry returned with two cold beers, pressing one to Louis’ cheek to try to see if he could entice a yelp out of him, and he could. Louis stuck his tongue out at him, and raised the beer to his lips.

 

He couldn't believe it, but everything he’d been wishing for since this morning had come true.

 

All except for one thing, so far.

 

 “You know, I think I could actually go pound out that song, now,” he considered. Harry gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah, I can feel it. I've got some material now,” Louis said, winking at Harry. He felt pretty alive.

 

 “Uhmmmmmmm, no,” Harry countered thoughtfully, “That would be rude.”

 

 “I don’t understand.”

 

 “I believe, about three hours ago, you promised me one night. A whole night, that is.”

 

Louis thought about that.

 

He scooted down and stretched out a little, taking a swig from his beer and extending one leg out straight while the other bent at the knee and came up to form an acute angle pointing towards Harry’s tall ceiling.

 

 “Huh.” He said, Harry studied him and brushed the hair away from his glowing face. “I suppose I did say that.”

 

 


End file.
